


I Believe I Do (A Scandal Westeros Flashback)

by SkinnyBlackGirl



Series: Scandal: Westeros (Bonus Cuts) [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Scandal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Modern Targaryen Monarchy, Modern Westeros, Scandal-Westeros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:35:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27763093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkinnyBlackGirl/pseuds/SkinnyBlackGirl
Summary: Standing nearly a foot taller than her, Rhaegar looks down and sees Elia Martell for the first time. He still sees a princess’s poise, but now there's cleverness sparkling in her dark eyes and the kind of graceful strength his mother only developed after his father's death. More than the picture-perfect queen-in-waiting he imagined, she’s a Princess of Dorne. Formidable. Shrewd. What passes between them as his indigo eyes meet her black pair is nothing as electric as passion or infatuation, but respect.She raises her glass. "No lies. No public embarrassments. No bastards.""No lies," he promises, raising his glass. "No public embarrassments. No bastards."
Relationships: Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen
Series: Scandal: Westeros (Bonus Cuts) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954129
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	I Believe I Do (A Scandal Westeros Flashback)

**Author's Note:**

> If you're new here, I HIGHLY SUGGEST searching the "Scandal Westeros" and reading "Royal Protocol - Episode Two."

_**The Royal Palace at Dragonstone  
1985 A.C.** _

"I will not be miserable."

The strength in his betrothed's voice takes him back a bit. As she toured Dragonstone throughout the day, she spoke gently, smiled easily, carried her petite body with all the grace of a future queen-in-waiting.

Deferent when required, expectant when appropriate. Delicate, all the way.

In his parlor, over tea, they share their last moments alone before Prince Rhaegar Targaryen formally asks Princess Elia Martell of Dorne to be his wife and the future Queen of Westeros. After which they will take engagement photos in the Gardens of Queen Alysanne at the gazebo that was built where his ancestors Jahaerys and Alysanne Targaryen wed centuries ago.

But the woman who sits before him now is . . . not the blushing maiden he’s publicly courted for the last six months. 

Her spine is straight, her dark-eyed gaze is firm. Gone is the warm, subtle Dornish drawl she uses in public; now, her tone is hot, the vowels and consonants less distinguishable. Like this, the two years between them are evident when usually, she appears to be younger than him. 

"I will do my duty to you, to your family, to Westeros," she says. "You will not lie to me, nor I to you. And I will not be miserable."

Rhaegar leans back in his chair, letting her words and change in demeanor wash over him. "Are you implying that marrying me will make you miserable?"

"You? I don't think so. You're kind, good company, albeit a little brooding." Her lips quirk into a smile. "As long as we're honest with each other, I believe we can have a productive, companionable marriage."

Productive. Companionable.

Strange terms for a marriage, but honest. Far better than the bitterness and resentment he witnessed between his parents.

"I have a lover."

"I beg your pardon?"

Rhaegar is accustomed to intimidating people when his voice goes cold and distant, but Elia proceeds unaffected. "I have loved him since I was 18. Or maybe all my life, if I'm honest. He is the one thing in my life that I do for myself and myself alone and I will not give him up."

"Now, wait one bloody minute, Elia. If you think I'll allow you to come into my home and make a cuckold of m--"

She raises a hand. "I mean to do my duty. An heir and a spare. There will be no question of their paternity. I can provide details on how I'll ensure that if you like?"

"This is madness. Utter madness. If my mother expects me to marry a..."

"... a partner, Prince Rhaegar. Who'll be as invested in your joy as I am in mine. I'll never deny you your private pleasures and you won't have to waste energy pretending not to have any."

That stops him in his tracks.

Was she . . . ?

"You'll 'let' me have a mistress, will you?"

"You're a crown prince and a future king. You'll do exactly as you please. I simply refuse to waste time worrying about it."

Not knowing what to do with himself, Rhaegar stands and paces the room, running a hand over his clean-shaven face.

Too many things are happening at once.

Princess Elia Martell is not at all who he thought she was.

His future wife--because Rhaegar is a realist and the crown is too invested in their marriage for it to not go on as planned--refuses to give up her lover and is openly advocating for him to have one as well.

What had he expected? To be madly in love? To be faithful until his dying day? To be a cad, as his father had been, disregarding his queen's happiness in his youth and becoming the primary source of her pain and misery as they aged?

He hadn't thought of it. He'd merely thought it would be what the first 23 years of his life have been: work.

Wouldn't an honest relationship with his wife make their work easier?

Elia appears next to him, brandishing a glass of caramel-colored liquid.

"Brandy from the Reach," she says. "I'm told you take it neat."

He accepts the offering, his brow raised in surprise.

"Dutiful as promised, Your Highness."

They sip together in silence, staring out at the rocky cliffs trailing down to the eastern shores of the Blackwater.

Finally, Rhaegar speaks. "He'll have a vasectomy."

Elia doesn't react.

"I trust your methods have worked thus far--"

"--I've never been pregnant if that's what you're--"

"--but for my peace of mind, your . . . He'll have a vasectomy. Bring anything of his into my bed--child or otherwise--that's the end of it."

Her jaw tenses and she takes a deep draw from her glass of brandy. "Fair."

"I expect you to please me. I won't _endure_ fucking my own wife for the sake of heirs. You can expect to be pleased in return."

Elia's face breaks into a broad smile. "Prince Rhaegar, did you just say 'fuck'?"

In spite of himself and the absurdity of the conversation, he smiles back. "You'll find I say it often in closed company."

"That won't be a problem." She steps back and makes a show of drinking in his appearance. "Nor will pleasing you, I don't think. Do you have someone?"

Rhaegar shakes his head. "Nothing as serious as your arrangement."

"You will. You're a romantic. You won't be able to help yourself."

He puts a hand in his pants pocket and takes another sip. "I suppose time will tell."

"Rhaegar," she says, her tone suddenly serious. "Look at me."

Standing nearly a foot taller than her, he looks down and sees Elia Martell for the first time. He still sees a princess’s elegance, but now he sees cleverness sparkling in her dark eyes and the kind of graceful strength his mother only developed after his father's death. More than the picture-perfect queen-in-waiting he imagined, she’s a Princess of Dorne. Formidable. Shrewd. What passes between them as his indigo eyes meet her black pair is nothing as electric as passion or infatuation, but respect.

She raises her glass. "No lies. No public embarrassments. No bastards."

"No lies," he promises, raising his glass. "No public embarrassments. No bastards."

Once they clink glasses and finish their drinks, she asks "Do you want to know who he is?"

"No," Rhaegar answers. "But I reserve the right to change my mind."

"Well, then. I believe you have something to ask me, Prince Rhaegar?”

"Yes, Princess Elia. I believe I do."

**Author's Note:**

> \- There is a VERY subtle nod to the identity of Elia's lover in Royal Protocol: Scandal Westeros - Episode Two.


End file.
